*pause for effect*
Here is where I ought to publish technicolor Western-themed photos and launch into exciting anecdotes about grizzly bats, however-
I woke. The problem is, I woke at 5:30am, and the waking was so jarring and unpleasant, I could have sworn it was a Tuesday.
My mouth, it seems, has been up to very bad things in my sleep. I think another damn tooth is trying to surface in a mouth where too many teeth have already made their sparkling debut. Either that or something crept into my slumbering yaw and stung bitter poisons into my right lower gum/cheek meeting place to make it swell up sorely-like. I’m slumping around this morning making noises closer to sasquatch than human.
This situation has been a cranky-maker.
One thing about my pretty awesome trip is: I hardly slept. I was sharing a room, and that’s not something I do. Plus, I sleep in a sub-level bedroom at home, so I’m used to sepulchral temperatures and a sort of humid, coastal climate. Wyoming is arid. And those I had to cohabitate with seemed to believe arctic temperatures were not the proper thing for sleepy time.
An adult can totally get by with little sleep for a while- once a person gets tired enough they’ll crash but proper, even in a baking desert of a rustic resort getaway. I had two sleep nights on the trip, and managed to usually black out by 4am on other mornings for a 2-3 hour nap.
But it is possible… not probable, mind you, but possible that the lack of sleep could have slightly tarnished my bubbly good nature.
In fact, my sugarbear-of-love actually accused me of being difficult this morning. This struck me as bitingly unfair- or unbitingly unfair, considering the state of my lower jaw. I contemplated the accusation in a thoughtful and reasonable manner, and then tortured him for 20 minutes over the comment.
Anyway, like I mentioned, I’m home and cranky. Perhaps blimps and fanfare were too much to expect, but in the famous words of John T. Ijustmadehimup: “Where’s mah bitches?”
Someone should be hand-feeding me grapes and carrying me around on a rickshaw, dammit. I am crippled, wounded, and sorely lacking a clamoring throng. This world-weary adventurer has come home to the cold comforts of low resolution hentai and improperly frosted German Chocolate Cake.
Where’s the love?
Perhaps I will find it in the treasure chest at the dentist’s office, (if they still let 31 year olds pick out a toy for being ‘good’).
They freakin’ better have lollipops.